Futnuckery.
September 3: It was once a horrifying concept, the future, and then it wasn't--not that it had somehow transposed itself in luminance, or that I had gotten too drunk to fuss over it, or frankly fell asleep during the trip--I had likened it to watching a horror film, peeking through trembling fingers at what was a frightful construction--why would God ever, even in his very worst of moods--but then, as with anything in the chute, I realized so much depended upon one's own lensing of the thing. I was hearing a man's dreams, and even himself had to say, to tell me, yeah different people all want their own things, have their own unique dreams, their own unique goals. In a thousand different spheres around a thousand different suns in a thousand different solar systems, one would that each of the innumerable points of light in the heavens, those, could not encompass the limitless capacity of the human to dream, or feel. There was one indominable night I had hollered and hollered...